


First Time in Love

by The_Inebriated_Literary_Virtuoso



Series: Chronicles of A High Functioning Sociopath and The People That Love Him [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bad Relationship, F/F, Gen, John is kind of slow sometimes, John still thinks he's not gay, Lestrade is kind of creepy, M/M, Mycroft makes me sad, Sherlock stands up for Mycroft, Verbal Abuse, defensive Sherlock, sherlock loves science more than john, the holmes brothers make me cry tears of joy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:15:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Inebriated_Literary_Virtuoso/pseuds/The_Inebriated_Literary_Virtuoso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The history of how Cupid's arrow hit all four men eventually. The adventures and misadventures of them falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mycroft Holmes

**_20 Years Later_ **

 

The first time that Mycroft fell in love it was with a man. A man by the name of Richard Greyson. They had entered a whirlwind romance that left Mycroft breathless and wanting more. He had never, in the first twenty-seven years of his life had someone who wanted to be with him so intimately. Richard had expressed how much he loved Mycroft and did so on a regular basis. Mycroft, never having fully gotten the experience of first love, flourished under the relationship he nurtured with is partner. He had been so busy with his career until that point that any tye of relationship would have been a strain in his mind and his work. He had ordered himself to stay alone for the sake of his career and for the sake of not getting hurt while he had a goal to accomplish. He convinced himself of the mantra that had ruined his relationship with his brother. _Caring was not an advantage._ That was the main force that drove his parents away. It was the main force that had driven all his past friends away, and it was the only force that had driven Sherlock away. Well, not the only reason, but the only one that truly mattered to him, anyway. So when, at the age of twenty-seven,  Mycroft had been propositioned by an attractive young man to be his partner with all that that included. Mycroft, finally in the position he had wanted to be at that time in his life, did not say no. He could not say no, he liked to believe as he looked back. The man had been like a poisoned apple, tantalizing, yet deadly. Not in the literally sense, but in the metaphorical sense, although that had not been obvious to Mycroft at the time.  
They had been together for a year when it began to happen.  
Slowly and more gradually Richard would talk down to Mycroft. He would make small little jabs at Mycroft. At first Mycroft considered it light teasing; he had seen many of his colleagues act this way with their wives or lovers or partners. Mycroft considered it to be the way that Richard showed his love for Mycroft. Anthea, barely starting as his assistant at the time, had noticed long before him, but didn't say anything until later. Then came the jokes about Mycroft's weight, the jabs of considering a diet and Mycroft couldn't help but consider that perhaps his lover was right. Perhaps he had a spark of truth in his jokes.  
Mycroft was not a very insecure man, he had never been one to care about what others thought. But as Richard began to become more blatant in his insults Mycroft slowly lost that true sense of confidence he once felt. He, of course, never wavered in front of others. He deplored looking weak. Because as his mentor taught him, a weak leader was an easy replaceable leader. 

The first time Sherlock visited Mycroft and Richard was the first time in over fifteen years Sherlock did something that surprised Mycroft. They had been at dinner, all three of them, in the Holmes' house and were having a lovely time. Richard had been making vicuous jibes again and Mycroft just sat closer to him in hopes that perhaps he would retract his jibes later when they were alone. Mycroft would not beg though, and he would not ask. He deplored looking weak. But he hoped if he was nicer, Richard would be nicer to him as well. That, however, was not the case. He continued on and finally at dessert when Richard asked Mycroft in a very rude manner if he was sure about eating a slice of cake did Sherlock attack him.  
Sherlock walked over to him and hit him in some of the weakest points of his body. His nose, his eyes, the back of his knees, and his balls.  
"Sherlock!" Mycroft cried.  
Sherlock looked at his brother. "I dislike you. I have resented you for the simple fact that we have grown apart over the years, but do not make this mistake dear brother. I refuse to believe that someone in your position as high up in the British Government as you are, would allow themselves to be treated this way. This cretin also happens to be cheating on you, by the way."  
Mycroft just stood with his mouth open and no sounds coming in or out.  
Sherlock looked at Richard kneeled over on the ground and kicked him in the ribs with the point of his boots. "That one is for my brother. While he has been naive enough to trust you, I do not. If I ever hear you speak that way to my brother again I shall see to it that you are framed for murder in Russian territory and hanged by your thumbs."  
With a swirl of a coat Sherlock was leaving the flat and bounding down the stairs, already hailing a taxi outside.  
  
Later that night Mycroft sat in the middle of his bed and watched as Richard entered the room from the en suite bathroom.  
Richard  smiled at him. "Hello dearest."  
He hadn't called Mycroft dearest in over a year.  
Mycroft looked at him, and felt himself steel his emotions for the moment he knew was coming. Sadly for him, the effects of what would happen would stay with him; forever remain as the only feature that people remembered when they saw the face of Mycroft Holmes. "Did you do it?"  
Richard looked at him. "Do what?"  
Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "Cheat on me."  
Richard, as Mycroft observed, suddenly got too defensive. So it was true. "Your goddamn brother lied, Myc! He's a bloody liar he is!"Mycroft slowly rose from the bed and walked over to Richard with fire in his eyes. "My brother may be pompous, irresponsible, arrogant, misguided, lack tact, and be one of the most unsociable people I have ever met. But Sherlock Holmes. Is. Never. Wrong."  
Richard let his surprised, defensive face fall and it was replaced with a malicious sneer. "Fucking fine then. Yes. Yes I cheated in you. And she was a skinny, pretty slut who was a better lay than you'll ever be."  
Mycroft felt something crack, but refused to let it hold him back from being the stronger one. he deplored showing weakness. "Get. Out."Richard snorted. "What are you gonna do? Kick me out? You can't do that!"  
Mycroft kept his cool stare. "Actually I can. This flat is under my name. I will have your things shipped to your mother's house in two days."  
Richard growled. "Mycroft, we both know that you are never going to get someone better than me."  
Mycroft didn't let the face fall. With each word being said the creation of what people would call the Iceman was formed. Every word cracked something in his heart just a little bit more and he refused to let that be what would break him. He had had enough of this.  
"I don't know if I will, Richard. But be aware, you made a very grave mistake in choosing to rile up someone with a minor position in the government."

He deplored showing weakness.

 

 

And as he lay in bed that night, let several tears fall for the lost love his had experienced, he thanked Sherlock for protecting him.


	2. Gregory Lestrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lestrade pines for the man in a three piece suit.

**_20 Years Later_ **

 

Greg Lestrade was sitting at a pub, alone, when the two men walked in. One man swaggered in, looking like the world's biggest tool, while the other man seemed to sadly follow in his shadow. They held hands as they found a table and ordered a pint. Greg sighed, the shy bloke had been quite fit. He continued to drink his beer and people watch but mostly he was watching the shy man with his arrogant sod of a date. They kissed several times and Greg resigned himself to just forgetting about the man who was obviously taken. He probably wouldn't have been able to make it work with the bloke anyway, he convinced himself. He was too busy with his work at getting a promotion at the Yard. In just a few months Gregory Lestrade was going to be _Detective Inspector_ Lestrade. He figured it was well worth the wait of working on the force since he was twenty, which meant he had been working with the MET for five years.  
He figured that with all his work at the Yard and with all the crime scenes that he had been attending that he couldn't possibly have time for a relationship. Or at least that is what he told himself to feel better about not getting to know that nice looking posh man with auburn hair and a sharp nose.

Then the man laughed at what the sod had said and Greg felt himself suddenly blush. The man's face lit up and his entire face seemed glowing with the essence of his happiness. Ironically, at the time that Mycroft was falling in love with Richard, Gregory Lestrade had fallen in love with him. When they left Greg considered following but knew that doing so was just a waste of time.  
He was twenty five, he told himself. He could go out and get any man or woman he desired. He knew that he was good looking enough to get someone to go home with him. It was just a matter of all the work that had to be done if they chose to stay over and all the pressure from the situation was just something that Greg didn't want. He had enough stress outside of his personal life and would like for it to stay that way. Although, had the man been single Greg wouldn't have minded keeping over the night and maybe getting to know him a bit more beyond the fact that he wore three piece suits that made him look ravishing.  
Greg only stayed in the pub a few more minutes before he decided to head home himself. When he got home he went to sleep, dreaming over three piece suits and umbrellas with wooden handles.

 

_**~One Month Later~** _

 

The second time that Gregory Lestrade had run into the man with three piece suits was when he ducked into a bookstore as it began to rain on his way home from work.  
He had forgotten his umbrella and looked for the nearest place that would allowed for him to stay inside for extended periods of time. At first Greg had just ducked inside, waiting for the rain to stop, but then he saw the books and decided to get a few books seeing as how he had just been telling Anderson the other day that he wanted to read. He perused the mystery section and chuckled to himself. Being a DI now he couldn't help but laugh at the false atmosphere these books gave off. A man beside him smiled.  
"I hardly think the genre of crime mystery is reason for laughter, sir. May I ask what amuses you about it?" The man had a soft, controlled voice and he sounded like he was smiling.  
Lestrade fingered through one of the books. "Just funny is all. I'm a policeman and this kind of stuff couldn't be further from the truth." He gave another small chuckle.  
The man beside him laughed a small laugh as well. "Ah, I can see where that might be seen as ironic humor to you." Greg looked up at him and stopped. The man in the three piece suit was smiling at him. At him. At him, Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade who came from West Sussex. And Greg had to admit that smile was even more gorgeous when it was directed at him. He forgot he was supposed to be talking. "Exactly." He said slowly.  
The man frowned. "Are you alright? You seem petrified."  
Greg opened and closed his mouth like a fish, wishing that worlds could come out. "I-Uh. Uhh. I- Yeah no. Um, I just saw you before is all. I think. I mean, I think I saw you at a pub a few days ago."  
The man nodded. "I have been to a pub exactly once in the last month. It is very possible that you may have saw me."  
 _Oh I saw you_ , Greg didn't say out loud. What he did say out loud was, "Yeah, I figured maybe. . . Yeah, anyway, it's nice to meet you. The name is Gregory Lestrade."  
The man smiled at him. It seemed as though he was happier then when Greg had last seen him. It seemed as though he was a bit brighter. Maybe it was because he was no longer lingering in someone's shadow. Greg would have easily thought that this man was better in the light then in somebody else's shadow. "I'm Mycroft."  
Greg smiled at him. "Mycroft, I like it." _I like you._  
Mycroft just snorted but blushed anyway. "A very unfortunate name, I am afraid, as you are the first to actually find it suitable, but thank you."  
Greg smiled at him. "It's my pleasure, really."  
And if Gregory Lestrade wasn't totally and completely smitten with the man in a three piece suit, he was now. 


	3. Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too bad Science can't love Sherlock back.

Science. That was what Sherlock loved. He loved earth science, physical science, anatomy, psychology, all the sciences. He also felt very strong kinship to his flatmate, John. John Watson was more competent and more intelligent and more capable of handling Sherlock than anyone he had ever met and Sherlock admired him for it. Sherlock made no mistake of how John felt toward him though. He was very aware that the man whom he had known almost his entire life was more than attracted to him. Sherlock, as they grew up, watched him become closer than almost everyone who met Sherlock. Where others had noticed how Sherlock acted and shied away John had just scooted closer and asked him to explain what he had said. When Sherlock had been a right twat as a child John only brushed it off and forgave him; another virtuous quality that Sherlock admired about him. The one thing that kept Sherlock from loving John more than Science was the simple fact that John had not yet realized his affections. In this respect Sherlock could have strangled John. Sherlock wanted John to notice the symptoms that he had in the ways of being attracted to someone. Sherlock may not have been very good at humans or emotions but he definitely knew when two people were attracted to each other; himself included. But Sherlock didn't want to tell John how he felt, no that was too easy, Sherlock wanted John to deduce his own feelings and come to Sherlock when he was ready. This led to many years of waiting. When they were children it had been child-like admiration. For a short moment as preteens it had been a schoolboy crush where John ignored Sherlock for two weeks. This had led Sherlock to the idea that he had to led John come to terms with this on his own. As teens it had been a very strong and almost unhealthy friendship that reached well into their days at Uni. Fresh out of medical school and well into his internship at Bart's they were still friends and Sherlock still waited.   
Now one thing that Sherlock would make abundantly clear in future conversations was that he was _not_ pining. _Sherlock Holmes_ did not pine. What he did was simply replace his affections for John Watson for an even larger love of Science. He immersed himself in his work while John went out with other doctors to the pub and made friends and fell in love temporarily. Sherlock was also never jealous. He had no reason to be, because he felt in his heart of hearts that John would always come back to him. They were tied inexplicably to each other. this was not Sherlock being a romantic, no, he had just gone through all their compatible features, traits, and characteristics that they were more compatible than any women that John brought home. Beginning with the fact that they were females, and not named Sherlock. In his time waiting for John he had only a handful of lovers and an even shorter list of friends. One of his lovers that had surprisingly become a friend was Molly Hooper. He had not been attracted to her in any way whatsoever but decided that she would be suitable in alleviating his sexual frustrations. He had broken up with her two months after the beginning of their covenant to a relationship. She had been heartbroken and for the first time in what seemed like his life Sherlock Holmes felt guilty for making another person upset. After her initial upset and sadness, though, they began to amend their previous friendship. She was happy to just be around Sherlock even if it wasn't in the way she wanted and he was happy to have access to the Morgue and also to see Molly just a bit happier. It also helped that John had cast looks at them during and after their short engagement. 

_**~Ten Years Later~** _

Ten years later, both men in their prime and fighting crime and all was right at 221B Baker Street. In the last ten years the two men had moved on from their respective work and while John had been in Afghanistan for five years Sherlock had finally set up his Consulting Detective business. Mycroft barely came around and Lestrade had been keeping him busy with cases. When John came home from Afghanistan Sherlock had expected the time away to help John finally realize his feelings. It did not. So on the days when John would be in the room next door and screaming in his sleep Sherlock didn't hold him as he had felt would have been suitable. He simply shook John awake and gave him a cup of tea. John accepted it gracefully without any contact from Sherlock.   
So the days went on until Moriarty showed up with his smaller criminals and soon the screaming stopped and the cane was put in storage. Sherlock ran about London with his blogger and still he waited for John to come to his senses. There had been three women for Mary Morstan. There had been Sally, or Sarah, or Sue, or whatever her name had been and two others that Sherlock just hadn't bothered to get to know. He knew they would be gone eventually. But he remembered Mary. He remembered her because she had been the only person that Sherlock thought could actually take John's affections from him. But he let it go, he let it go because he knew John would realize it. He had to.   
And all the while Sherlock delved deeper and deeper into the sciences that he had loved so much. There was just one problem. . .  
Science couldn't love him back. And Science didn't have pale blue eyes.


	4. John Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Mary are just friends. And John insists to Mary that Sherlock is NOT his lover.

They had been sitting in a cafe at the time. As the were talking John just suddenly felt plain. Or maybe not plain, but normal; like he was just out to lunch with one of his mates. Mary had been chatting away about her friend but John just stared, unable to understand what was happening. It wasn't as though he was suddenly possessed. He had felt the feeling all week, all month actually. But it felt as though suddenly he could name the feeling for what it was.  
"John? John! Are you alright?" Mary asked, she had a worried look on her face.  
John looked at her slowly. He didn't even have to say the words for her to understand what the look on his face meant. "Ah."  
He looked at her, looked at their hands, still linked together, and knew that if he didn't say it now it would only make this harder. "Mary. . . I. .  I'm sorry but-"  
She patted his hand with her other hand. "It's alright, John. I already knew for sometime that this was coming. "  
John felt something pool in his gut. It felt strangely like guilt. "It isn't that you were. .  y'know, bad or anything. I just-"  
Mary laughed softly. "John, I know. You're gay."  
His sad face quickly turned into one of shock. "What?"  
Mary raised an eyebrow.  
He nodded his head. "I'm not gay!"  
Mary looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh. "John, I think you might want to rethink that. I mean, what with all that you must be feeling for Sherlock."  
John floundered for words. "I'm not gay for Sherlock! Why does everyone think that?"  
She laughed. "Because, John, it looks like it's true."  
John stared at her for a minute, hoping she was joking. Of course he was more than relieved that she was being kind about their break-up, but being in love with Sherlock? Surely the woman had gone mad! She must be joking.  
After sitting there for a moment Mary dropped her amused expression. "Wait. You mean to tell me, you don't even know?"  
John frowned. "Know what?"  
Mary just looked back at him in shock. "I can't believe it!"  
John just crossed his arms. "I haven't the faintest what you're on about."  
Considering the fact that they had just broken up John thought she seemed just a little too adamant to believe he was gay. And for Sherlock no less.  
Mary doubled over in laughter and the few people in the cafe gave her looks.  
When she finally stopped laughing she looked at John. "You are an absolutely ridiculous man! You poor sod!"  
John's frown deepened. "What?"  
Mary stopped laughing and whispered to John with a smile, "John, Sherlock is in love with you."  
John's mouth dropped open.

They sat there for a long time, Mary with an amused glint in her eyes, and John with eyes filled with slow realization. Suddenly he was remembering everything. The feelings he had felt when they were thirteen, the days when Sherlock would bring him flowers and just shrug when John asked him why he got them. He remembered their days in Uni when they went on camping trips and Sherlock had shown him all the stars on their side of the hemisphere. He remembered their first kiss, at a party where they played Seven Minutes in Heaven and then they had been done kissing John laughed and called it a joke and hadn't seen Sherlock for a week after the party. John had been blind. John had been idiotic. John had been oh so stupid in believing that who he had loved for the past year was Mary Morstan. He had brought about women, introduced them to the man who was in love with him. He had been so _**stupid.**_   John had thought he was in love with Mary for a year, when in reality, he had been in love with Sherlock since the day that they bumped into each other on their ways in and out of the lavatory of some primary school John could no longer recall.  
John gasped as if he had just been punched. The realization hitting him like a train wreck. He looked up at Mary with frantic eyes. "I'm sorry Mary but I have to go."  
She was already pulling on her coat and leaving some cash on the table. "Well then let's go, boy-o. Can't have Sherlock already waiting longer than he has for your idiotic self."  
The entire cab ride to Baker Street John just kept telling Mary how stupid he had been all these years, and Mary, like the blessed soul John always believed her to be, just agreed and told him he was a right git for being so slow. When the cab stopped and Mary followed John looked back. "Why are you coming?"  
Mary grinned at him. "I just helped you realize you are in love with Sherlock Bloody Holmes. I am not missing the chance to see his face when he finds out."  
If Sherlock had not been waiting for him upstairs John would have married Mary Morstan for all of her wonderful qualities.  
As they leaped up the stairs and into the flat it seemed that everything was much more calm than John felt on the inside.  
"John! I need a case! 'M Bored!" Sherlock yelled from the kitchen.  
Mary giggled as John marched into the kitchen, roughly grabbed Sherlock by his pressed shirt and kissed him roughly on the lips, unsurprising to John it felt as if their lips were molded for each other. Mary laughed loudly when John pulled away and Sherlock floundered like a fish. John smiled at him, . "Hello."  
Sherlock still looked at him in shock. ". . . Hello."  
Mary laughed and tapped John. "I guess this is my cue to head out, but we'll still be going to the pub this weekend, right?"  
John smiled. "Of course."  
Mary smiled and looked at Sherlock. "Take good care of him, took this slow git long enough to come around."  
Sherlock looked at her. "You made him realize?"  
Mary just winked. "I'm good with people."  
As the door closed behind her Sherlock turned to John. "I waited a very long time. I had begun to think you would never realize. . ."  
John looked down, embarrassed. "Yeah. . . I'm a bit slow."  
Sherlock smiled. "Yes, slow enough that you are still talking and not kissing me, Mr. Watson."  
They kissed until John looked down at what he had his hand on. "What am I touching, Sherlock? And why is it on the table?"


End file.
